


Stand In Place, Running

by james



Series: Secrets We Keep [3]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen, Grown-ups Talking, Mental Health Issues, Mild Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24205828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: Ivan's ready for things to go back to normal. His relatives beg to differ.  But at least there's still a sleeping baby to cuddle.
Series: Secrets We Keep [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744738
Comments: 15
Kudos: 74





	Stand In Place, Running

Ivan assumed that now he would go home, go back to work, and everything would go back to normal – with the addition of daily calls to his mother to reassure her that he was fine. Then Major Vordorokhin, Gregor's majordomo, appeared at Ivan's (borrowed) door and informed him that he was wrong.

“I have your schedule for the week,” Vordorokhin said, tapping on the screen of his reader and a second later, Ivan's own reader pinged with receipt. Ivan cautiously went over and picked it up, knowing from experience that once he saw whatever it was he'd been sent, he was effectively agreeing to be held to it.

Vordorokhin waited until Ivan opened the message he'd been sent. It was, in fact, a schedule for the next six days.

“There is, of course, a great deal of leeway with the exception of your medical check-ins. As you are aware your medical staff is on call at all times, should you require any assistance. Your monitor will continue to scan your vital signs and alert them to any need for intervention.”

Ivan blinked. He looked down at the comm on his wrist and noticed that it wasn't his usual military-issued comm. This one looked completely basic, unadorned, but in that extremely expensive way that said it was Imperial Issue. And apparently included a medical monitor.

It made sense that he'd been wearing it; it explained why the nurses knew when to show up right as he needed a sedative after he'd demonstrated that he wouldn't ask for it outright. He scowled anyway because, despite its usefulness, what the hell.

He saw Vordorokhin frowning at him ever so very slightly. “Your medical staff are stationed across the hall,” he continued in a doubtful tone like maybe he thought Ivan had no idea.

Ivan had had no idea. To be honest, the last few days he'd been very unaware of anything except the noises in his own head. But – medical _staff._ How many people were going to be in there if Ivan went across the hallway and opened the door? He decided he really did not want to know. He supposed he could be grateful, after all. Leave it to Gregor to turn the end of the hallway into a small hospital for Ivan's benefit.

He really should have checked into a hotel.

Ivan distracted himself by looking back at what was in fact a schedule, all of his medical visits clearly marked and confirmed. There were meal slots and Ivan could see how either his mother had created this and handed it to Vordorokhin, or the man had been one of her proteges. The entire day was blocked out in general terms which meant Ivan was expected to fill in the blanks – and not actually deviate from the schedule or someone, probably his mother, would show up and guilt him into doing as he was expected.

“You may select among any of the available options for your meals; you need not do so very far in advance, as long as you _do_ let us know in time to have a place ready for you.” Vordorokhin gave a nod, tapping a lightpen on his screen and the document on Ivan's screen opened a small box next to 'lunch', which was in two hours' time.

There were options listed, including dining with his mother and Simon in the Canary Gallery, dining with Laisa and the boys in the nursery, or dining in the small dining hall inside the residential wing which was reserved for personal guests – Ivan knew that meant he would be dining semi-formally, with no indication of who would be joining him other than the servants and guards who were always here and there, inside the Palace. There was also – Ivan blinked – an option for Gregor's inner office, joining the Emperor for a working lunch.

There were no options for 'go home and have a readimeal in my own kitchen.' But there was, strangely, actually the option to eat lunch right where he was standing, in the sitting room of the brown suite, with no obvious requirement that anyone had to eat with him. Ivan tapped that one.

“I should say, Captain, that I've been informed that while you are welcome to dine alone once per day, it is expected that your other two meals will be...one of your other options. As are your mornings and afternoons, your doctor has indicated that you are...” He cleared his throat, and Ivan waited to see how the man was going to word what Ivan knew was coming. “Not to spend your days entirely in your rooms alone, in the same set of pajamas.” Vordorokhin glanced down at Ivan's attire, his nose wrinkling ever-so slightly.

Ivan knew he was wearing the same pajamas he'd been wearing yesterday, though had no actual idea when he'd changed into them, or how long he'd spent in the pair previous. They weren't the ones he'd started in, was all he knew. He didn't want to think to much about who might have changed his clothes. 

But his meds were _working,_ so he didn't actually mind being forced out of his bedroom to spend time with people. His doctor had explained it all again, yesterday, how they'd taken readings and samples and even a piece of tissue from Ivan's brain – while he'd been asleep, which Ivan appreciated. Then the medication was designed specifically for him, for his brain and all the particular ways it was and was not working.

He'd stopped Dr. Greson right before he'd been able to fully describe the tiny, pseudo-intelligent nanites that Ivan could not think about crawling into his brain, else he really would have a breakdown and they'd have to sedate him all over again. But they'd gone in, and more importantly come back out again, so all Ivan was doing now was taking a medication that worked, and he felt more like himself than he could remember being in nearly a decade.

“I'd be delighted to visit Niklas after lunch,” Ivan said, tapping the empty section in the early afternoon. Again, the box popped up with what looked like a list of people who were available to spend time with him.

He didn't want to read it, it looked like the same set of names he was allowed to dine with, but as he paged forward to tomorrow the list of names expanded.

“Why the fuck is _Mark_ on here?” The entire Vorkosigan family was listed, both together as a group and separately, and Ivan completely ignored his aunt and uncle's names and didn't think about the fact Miles' name was missing. There was no way Miles didn't know what was happening, not unless Gregor had sent him to the far side of the planet – or off-planet completely.

Which. Was something Gregor might have done.

“Persons cleared by ImpSec to enter the residential wing of the Palace were queried if they wished to visit,” Vordorokhin said, giving Ivan a very slightly confused look. Maybe he hadn't ever met Mark, or just didn't know why Ivan would be astounded that the man who was technically his cousin would offer to visit him.

They'd exchanged maybe ten words in all their time of acquaintance, Ivan thought. _After_ Earth, but Mark hadn't really been Mark, then. They weren't enemies, Ivan really didn't have anything against the man despite everything that had happened, but they had never had much reason to hang out and become friends, either. 

Maybe it was guilt, or family duty pressed onto him by Miles' absence. Ivan mentally shrugged. Well, if he had the option, he was going to spend all his time in the nursery with his two favorite nephews anyhow, with at least once a day seeing his mother and Simon so she could get over worrying about him and they could get back to their vacation.

Vordorokhin had said he didn't have to fill the schedule out right away, so he left the rest of it alone and flipped past it to the next page.

“Uh.”

“There are several state events on the docket,” Vordorokhin said smoothly. “Your mother suggests that an appearance at one or two would go a long way towards addressing certain...theories being currently discussed amongst certain...parties.”

Ivan knew what that meant. The gossip rags must have gotten hold of Ivan staying at the Palace suddenly and without warning, and probably in such a way that not one word of truth would have been uttered by anyone who actually knew what was going on. While Ivan appreciated his mental instabilities not being part of the daily gossip columns, it would mean that speculation would have picked up to fill in the blanks. Why his mother thought Ivan showing up and looking...fine and normal and who knew what else, would deal with, he didn't know and wasn't sure he wanted to.

Normally mere tongues wagging was nothing to be concerned about; the gossip rags picked him up from time to time, only of interest because of his relation to the Emperor and his tendency to enjoy himself to the fullest with whomever was willing. There had been a time in his younger days when 'Who Did Ivan Vorpatril Sleep With?' had been an actual weekly column on one of the Imperial Family Gossip blogs.

But if his mother was ordering him to make an appearance – and make no mistake, his mother did not make _suggestions_ – then at least one of the lines of gossip was something that needed to be put down.

Ivan wondered what it was. Maybe they'd decided again he was sleeping with the Empress? That popped up from time to time, ever since he and Laisa had become friends. Once Niklas had been born, Ivan had spent a lot of time in the Palace, playing with the new baby which meant a lot of time with Laisa, more or less alone. Then there was the rumor where Ivan was sleeping with both Gregor and Laisa, but his mother had never worried about any of those sorts of rumors before. Ivan's favorite was the rumor he'd been replaced by a Cetagandan clone; he wondered if he could stir that one back up somehow.

Well, his mother might actually tell him what was going on, if he met her and Simon for dinner tonight.

“If I'm going to a state party I'll need some clothes,” Ivan gave the majordomo a grin and he looked down at his pajamas. He probably desperately needed a shower, as well.

Vordorokhin cleared his throat. “Your closet, Captain.”

Huh. Ivan turned around and went into the bedroom, hearing Vordorokhin follow at a distance. He opened the closet door and – huh, again. His clothes were hanging there...except no, he realised, looking more closely. They were all new, but in exactly his style such that some of them were duplicates of what he had at home. There was one dress uniform, meant for the parties his mother wanted him to attend, but otherwise there were two casual outfits that could almost be called pajamas, and five sets of actual pajamas, hanging there. There was also a dressing gown, which meant that someone had decided it was perfectly all right if Ivan spent the entire next six days socialising and dining in his pajamas.

Well, then, if he could, he was going to.

“Was there anything else?” he asked, because now that he'd thought it, he really, really needed to shower.

“No, Captain, except that His Majesty has asked me to remind you that should you wish anything, you need only ask.”

Ivan nodded, glad that Gregor hadn't snuck a 'request and require' in there somewhere. He waved a hand, and Vordorokhin took his leave. Ivan grabbed a clean set of pajamas and headed for the refresher.

~ ~ ~

Ivan enjoyed his shower, his clean pajamas, and his lunch alone in his room. He still had an hour before he would be expected to pop in at the nursery, and he knew from experience that showing up early and unannounced was the best way to make Niklas completely insane with excitement for _days,_ thinking that Uncle Ivan would show up again by surprise. Which, for the next few days Ivan actually could, but he knew Niklas' parents and nannies would prefer it if he didn't make the young Prince bounce off the walls more than he already did. 

So Ivan stayed in his room to read for a bit in order to show up exactly when Niklas would be prepped to receive him. He'd barely settled in a chair when there was a knock on the door. Ivan tapped his wrist comm, wondering if Gregor would let him keep the fancy model when he left. Probably, except it was set up to feed medical information and he didn't need someone to know exactly how Ivan felt at all times.

Especially not if he ever wanted to take a lady home. It was one thing for ImpSec to always know where he was, it was another for someone to see his vital signs _at all times._ Just as well he'd leave it behind, and then Ivan stopped thinking for a long moment all together as Miles walked in.

He stopped just inside the door, and there was a flash of Imperial uniform outside in the hallway. The door closed before Ivan could tell if someone was taking up station outside his door or if someone Imperial had escorted Miles here.

“What. What are you doing here?” Ivan didn't intend for it to sound like an accusation, but he'd been hoping he wouldn't have to deal with his cousin just yet. _Off-planet_ for a month would have been so much nicer.

Miles, for his part, was standing one step inside the door and coming no further. He'd been briefed, Ivan could see, by the way Miles was trying not to look directly at him and acting like he wasn't going to do anything to startle Ivan. For all his short stature, Miles had never exactly struck Ivan as _small_ before. Not until now, with his shoulders rounded in and his head ducked, not quite down, but like he was clearly trying to appear...unthreatening.

“I'm not scared of you, Miles, stop that.” Ivan scowled at him, and waved towards the chair near his own when Miles looked surprised. He did sit down, though, then just sat quietly and didn't say anything. Ivan sighed. “None of it was your fault, you know.”

That made Miles jump to his feet again and start to pace. “But it was! Ivan, I know-- I should have...I should have done something, anything. I thought--”

He stopped when Ivan threw a slipper at his head. He gaped as it fell to the floor and Ivan had to scowl at him to pick it up and bring it back. Not that he was an invalid anymore, but he was a bit worried that if he made a move towards Miles, his cousin would take it any number of wrong ways.

Miles crouched down and picked up the slipper, still gawping at him, and brought it over. Ivan put it back on, and pointed at the chair. The only specific thing Miles had actively done was leave Ivan in the chamber to wait for the tide to come in and drown him, but it had been Mark and Ser Galen who'd put him there in the first place. And besides, Mark had turned out to be more victim and less agent than Ivan could have imagined so it was hard for Ivan to assign any blame to him. All of the other things that had chipped away at Ivan's sanity had been Miles-adjacent, but never directly because of something Miles himself had done to him.

Ivan had never blamed him for any of it. He wondered how he could possibly pound that into his cousin's head. 

“I'm not saying you had nothing to do with it, we both know better. But we both made choices, everyone involved made choices, and despite how much you would have protested at the time, you weren't actually in control of everything that every single person did.” He had to glare a bit at Miles to stop him from interrupting. “Yes, it sucks, and you got me pulled into shit and I got hurt. What would you have done if I was the one who was responsible for your head?” He waved his hand at Miles' skull.

“I... Oh.” Miles stopped, clearly realising what Ivan meant. “Well, I mean you weren't even there, Ivan, how could--” He stopped again as Ivan glared, then paused, taking a moment to actually think about it. “If...somehow, if you'd been there and were...somehow directly responsible for me getting hit by the grenade, and thus responsible for my having seizures now....” He shrugged. “I'd say try not to do it again, and I'd drop it. I might expect a bottle of wine or something.” His expression changed, and then he looked sad. “But then why didn't you ever tell me? Gregor said you didn't want me to know about it.”

Ivan sighed, because apparently he should have been worried about keeping his secrets from his _other_ cousin, this whole time. “Because you'd try to do something to make it up to me. No, that is not a suggestion,” he snapped as Miles looked suddenly eager. “I don't want you to _do_ anything. Your gestures tend to involve inter-planetary war and buildings exploding and...the entire kitchen was covered in carrot pulp and _I had to clean it up_. Mama kept finding bits of carrot in crevices for _years_.” Ivan paused to scowl at Miles. “You don't do anything halfway, or even all the way for a normal person, and I--” Ivan pressed a hand to his head, but was very surprised to find that there was no headache forming.

His new meds were _amazing._

“I just couldn't deal with any of that, Miles. I can barely--” And maybe he shouldn't be saying this, to the very person he didn't want to over-react to things. “Some days I can barely manage myself, I can't defend myself against your well-meaning but completely over-the-top good wishes.”

For a long moment, Miles didn't say a word. Ivan wondered if he was going to have to keep arguing, or if maybe he could ask his mother to have Miles sat on, or something. Did the Empire need some Auditing done on the other side of the galaxy, Ivan wondered. Ekaterin wouldn't be pleased, but Ivan wasn't afraid to ask Gregor for this particular favor.

But finally, Miles nodded. “I...can see what you mean, Ivan.” His voice was subdued, and he sounded old. Older, at least, and Ivan wondered if this what being a father had done to him, made him older and wiser. Or maybe finally being married to a woman who put up with no shit from him – or possibly both. 

It didn't matter, Ivan knew, because he could tell that Miles understood.

He watched as Miles took a deep breath, like he was re-centering himself, then he said, “If you do want something, Ivan, I hope you know you can ask me.” 

It was almost funny, it was like he could see how much Miles was restraining himself. It would have been nice, if it weren't for the fact-- “Everyone has been saying that,” Ivan groaned. 

Miles didn't look impressed. “Well, I imagine everyone means it, Ivan. What are we supposed to do, let you suffer by yourself?”

Ivan shrugged, because most of his life he'd managed fine doing exactly that – except he hadn't, not really. Now he was sitting here, Gregor's staff making sure he was well-fed and well-rested and as well-socialised as he could handle, Ivan had to admit this was better. He felt better, for certain, and with his head apparently clear of the anxieties and dreams of salt water filling his head – this was immensely better.

Before he could say anything else, there was a tap at the door, then it opened. Major Vortomlin stepped in, took a quick look around, then stepped aside. Ivan wanted to let them know they were over-reacting, there couldn't possibly be anything inside this room they didn't already know about. But it reassured him as well, because the only rooms the guards didn't check before allowing an Imperial family member to enter, were rooms considered private family rooms.

He still didn't know what rumors his mother wanted him to help quash, but being treated like that much of a close family member was probably not going to help.

Gregor walked in and gave them each an appraising look. Miles looked aggrieved. “I didn't upset him!”

“I know.” Gregor glanced over at Ivan. “I was across the hall, watching the monitor. If you had upset him, we would have known and I would have come in right away.” He gave a small shrug with one shoulder. “As it is, I told you ten minutes, exactly. Then I was coming in.” 

Miles slumped, frowning like Niklas had done the last time Ivan had told him he was going now, I will see you another day. 

“Wait, if I'd gotten upset, you were going to storm in?” Ivan asked. As Gregor started to nod, Ivan grinned. “What if I'd just gotten really excited?”

Gregor folded his arms, looking every inch of unimpressed. “The only thing Miles could have possibly told you to get you excited, was that he and Ekaterin were having another baby for you to play with. In which case, Miles had better announce such to me, as well.” He gave Miles a mock-glare, and Miles grinned.

Then he looked at Ivan, thoughtfully. “You know, Ivan, with incubators--”

“No, and do not _dare_ say anything of the sort in front of my mother.” Ivan had his slipper back, he was willing to throw it again.

Miles flicked his fingers. “You don't think she's aware of the option? I did say she and Simon could give you a younger brother, even.”

“I would rather have half a dozen half-siblings, than one of my own. Miles, I'm going to throw you out of here on your head if you say one more syllable about it.”

“I think that would go against medical advice,” Gregor cautioned, sounding mildly amused.

“Eh, I feel fine,” Ivan said. “I don't understand why I'm stuck here for another week. The meds are working.”

Gregor gave him a flat look that made Ivan want to mutter a _yes, Sire_ before he even heard what Gregor had to say. “You are not fully recovered, Ivan. Your meds are working, so far, and both of your doctors agree that you should not only be monitored to make sure there are no unexpected side effects or complications, but that you learn, once and for all, that your family is here to help you when you need it. You've done this three times without any of our assistance, without even telling anyone there was a _problem._ ” There was a hint of a glare in his eyes and a tone in his voice that made Ivan think this was as close to shouting as Gregor let himself get.

It wasn't fair, though; the third time hardly counted. It had been three days of throwing up and being dizzy after starting a new medication, which his doctor had quickly taken him off of and they tried something else. He'd had colds that were worse.

“But you knew,” Ivan began, because he was pretty sure Gregor did, and he knew his mother knew, and she'd never pushed him to talk about it.

Not that he'd ever let her how bad it got sometimes, or how much hard it was when he had to switch meds all by himself.

“I knew, but not because you told me anything,” Gregor said, and oh, yeah, Ivan could see how furious he was.

And to _think_ Ivan had thought it would be worse to ask his mother for help.

“Despite what I did know, and what Aunt Alys knew, you never spoke of it to either of us until now. It's been _years_ , Ivan. So _now_ we are going to reinforce the knowledge that we are here to help you, we support you, and we love you, and you will learn that lesson so that next time it doesn't occur to you _not_ to ask.”

Ivan had no idea what to say. Was there even anything he could say, except yes, and he managed a nod but didn't trust himself to try to speak. Gregor dropped his arms, and stepped closer. He gripped Ivan's hand and tugged him forward, leaning down to give him a tight hug.

“I'm sorry,” Ivan breathed, as Gregor let him go.

Gregor nodded, and the mood shifted as he seemed to let the matter drop. Trusted that Ivan wouldn't make the same mistake twice, and Ivan knew that because of that, he wouldn't be able to. He had a feeling Gregor might have been like this even without having been Emperor nearly his entire life, but that certainly had reinforced his ability to just expect people to do things, and they did.

Ivan caught a glimpse of the time, and realised if he wanted to pull himself together well enough to have lunch with his nephews, he needed to start now.

“I'm going to head out,” Miles said easily, probably just happy that _he_ hadn't been the focus of Gregor's anger. Ivan just nodded, didn't really try to say anything because he felt tired, suddenly, like something huge had been ripped out of his skull and left everything dripping, behind.

Oddly enough, it didn't feel like a bad thing. He'd had nightmares and hallucinations before that felt similar and he'd been paralysed with fear from it, but right now he just felt lighter, despite the upset of knowing how hurt Gregor – and his mother, and probably everyone else, – was.

He realised Gregor hadn't moved towards the door, and looked up to find his cousin watching him. “I'll let Laisa know you won't be joining them for lunch,” he said, then, “I'll be right back.”

Ivan watched him go, managed another exhausted nod when Miles mumbled something about leaving, he really meant it this time, but he still hadn't moved by the time Gregor came back in holding Xav. Gregor walked over and put him in Ivan's arms, then settled himself into the chair Miles had vacated.

“Miles, on your way out, if you could stop by the nursery,” Gregor asked, and it took Ivan a moment to realise – at least one uncle was as good as another, in this case. He felt bad, but also entirely unable to even get out of his chair.

Didn't have to, though, because he had a sleeping baby to watch.

“You really do need one of your own,” Miles said, and Ivan flipped him off. Xav was asleep so he couldn't see, so he wouldn't be yelled at. Probably.

“You do realise that you're forbidden from telling him any more stories,” Gregor said.

“I'm not, though,” Ivan said breezily. “You can't forbid me to do my familial duty of embarrassing you to your kids. Ask Miles, I do it with his kids all the time.”

“Which one?” Miles asked, and Ivan saw the pained look on Gregor's face.

“Laisa told me it was the one with the horse manure, that summer at the Surleau,” Gregor admitted.

“Oh, yeah, he told that one to mine when they were four. Natalia wanted to try it, she had some ideas to make it work better.”

Gregor raised an eyebrow. “Did you let her?”

Miles shook his head. “We're hoping she's forgotten about it.”

Ivan smiled, and said nothing. He did need to visit Vorkosigan House, he hadn't been there in too long a while.

The scary thing was, Natalia probably would take her Da's plan and improve it until it worked correctly. He'd have to explain that covering her Da in horse manure was an _essential_ part of success.


End file.
